


Invincible

by Idhren15



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood and Gore, Death, Downfall, Fatal Injury, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Violence, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idhren15/pseuds/Idhren15
Summary: Link fights his way through the Temple of Souls, brimming with confidence and fuelled by the recently-acquired Master Sword.He is the Legendary Hero, and he feels invincible.Until he isn't.Until the shadows rise, and the Hero falls.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Invincible

**Author's Note:**

> I was playing Hyrule Warriors tonight - yes, the original, on my wii u - and gosh I love this game. I got the Master Sword, and then had the Dark Links fight, and my angst brain went... ooooh what if that fight didn't go well. What if Lana, Midna, etc never turned up... What if Link stayed overconfident throughout... 
> 
> And, well, this little angsty piece was born. 
> 
> (I did not proofread this, I should be asleep right now, but I couldn't ignore the urge to write so here. take it.) 
> 
> Enjoy >:)

The Master Sword thrums in his left hand, the power surging to his head as he pirouettes and takes down the charging bokoblins with ease. He is more than a young soldier, pushed aside and mocked for his pretty looks and his silence. He is more than a Captain, risen to rank through trials and skill.

He is _the_ Legendary Hero, now.

He wields the Blade of Evil's Bane, and he feels invincible.

He laughs at the ease of which his enemies are felled, beams of light incinerating them before his steel can even begin to taste flesh. His trained skill, to take out so many in so little time, is only enhanced by the might of his rightful weapon, as he conquers the battlefield, hundreds at a time.

He doesn't pay much attention to the details of his surroundings, his sole focus on capturing the magic rooms.

Well, that is his _official_ goal.

He is mostly here to revel in the beautiful destruction he creates.

Another room is secured, breaking the magic connections, and someone says that it's enough, but he is not satisfied. There are still enemies holding strongholds, and he will not rest until they are nothing but corpses.

It is an easy task, for one as strong as him.

His sword glows as he stabs it through the last redead, his veins brimming with magic ready to unleash on his next victim.

The sorceress is next, and he walks firm into her lair, ready for this victory.

But Cia giggles, and something is _wrong_ and then he's on his knees - _how, why, he is supposed to be unstoppable_ \- and a dark shape is torn from his being, rising up into a shadowy version of himself.

With a silent yell, he strikes first, surprised when his sword meets the other's shield, but it is little bother. He's fought fiercer foes, and he quickly dodges the dark's attack, darting back in and delivering a nasty gash to his opponent's side. The dark doesn't bleed, at least not visibly, but he is confident that this battle in his hands. And, sure enough, the dark falls, pierced through by his still-glowing sword.

It revives, and splits into four, but he chases them down, glad of the challenge.

His allies warn him to pick his battles wisely, and he _is_ , it makes _sense_ for him to go after the dark that is left, even though all the doors close, trapping him.

No, he is not trapped with his enemy; rather, his enemy is trapped with _him_.

He grins and twirls his sword, ready for the challenge, and the shadow grins back.

They attack at the same time, then both recoil into more of a defensive position, before the attacks renew again. Something is different about his opponent this time, as the dark blocks more of his attacks, and what should be a simple victory turns into an intense spar. It doesn't help that his allies are all yelling, too, trying to get to him, telling him to hold on -

He scoffs, and knocks the dark back with his shield. He doesn't need anyone else. He has the Blade - and that is enough.

He raises it skyward, before slashing downwards, a beam of light tearing out and ripping the dark in two. The shadow falls, and he smiles even as he pants and leans a little on his sword.

(He should recognise that he's at his limit, now.)

(He doesn't.)

The shadow seeps into the floor, creeping around his boots, but he stands firm, glancing around for the next threat. The doors are still sealed shut, so there must be something else, some other enemy lurking in the dark corner, waiting to strike.

He shifts into a ready position, sword and shield raised, and the shadows under his feet split into four. They spread out to the corners of the room, then grow into yet another quartet of darks.

But there's something different about these.

They carry themselves stronger, and the swords in their hands are massive, each pulsing with dark magic to counteract the brightness of his own.

His own, which is glowing much less, now.

The darks advance quickly, and he is soon surrounded. He pivots, not wanting to take his eyes off any one of them for too long. This should be easy; a simple spin attack would work on his usual enemies.

But they are not usual, and they keep coming back stronger, every time.

Still, he can do this. He can take them. He's defeated them so many times today, he can fight again. Allowing his confidence to waver now will cost him too much.

He hears his allies, but knows they are too far. He's on his own.

But still, he is not afraid.

The sword is light in his hand, and he swings it at one of the darks, spinning and raising his shield to block the attack from the second, rolling out of the way of the third, standing and slicing at the fourth.

They take no damage, and all circle in to attack once more.

It's a flurry of swords, the rush of metal-on-metal, at first dodging and attacking but then he has to go fully defensive.

But why? Why are their swords stronger, why is his blade not enough? Why is it failing him, at the hour when he needs it most?

He stumbles slightly, and one of the darks makes it past his shield, cutting deep and cruel into his left arm.

A scream tears from his throat, and his shield falls as his right hand flies to brace against the wound. Blood pours readily down his arm, coating his fingers, and he struggles to keep his grip on the blade, barely able to raise it in defense. But his hand is slick, and the force of the second dark's attack pushes the hilt from his hold.

The Blade of Evil's Bane clatters to the ground, its light long diminished.

He rolls away from the next attack, struggling to his feet again, and tries to reach for the sword but the third dark kicks it away.

He counts three, as he stands there weaponless, but where is the fourth?

Pain erupts from his spine, shooting all the way through him, and something warm and wet splatters against his hand. His legs suddenly can't hold his weight, and he crumples, knees smacking into the unforgiving ground.

A thick blade protrudes from his abdomen, and he stares at the veins of dark magic flickering over it, before it is pulled out of his back, leaving a gaping, bloody hole in his torso.

Someone screams, in rage, pain, he cannot tell, and there are many voices but they all blur into white noise. He's staring at the hole, still, his shaky hand pressing to it and coming away stained the deepest crimson.

 _Why did you fail me?_ he thinks, staring through blurring vision at his fallen sword, _Why did you stop working when I needed you most?_

It's getting harder to breathe, and his vision whites out at the same time the noise turns to a faded ringing in his ears. Coughing and gasping, he falls to one side, blood spilling past his lips and straight onto the floor.

 _Why?_ he thinks again, as the darkness reaches up to tug him down.

One last, feeble cough rises in his chest, and then he is still, his eyes gazing into nothing.

The cooling blood of the Hero carves rivers into the floors of the forsaken temple, and a soft, chiming voice rises above the cries of despair.

_I did not fail you; you failed yourself._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! and if you want to scream at me, whether about this fic or just how awesome Hyrule Warriors is in general, come scream on [my tumblr!](https://idhrencookieelf.tumblr.com)
> 
> (and to make things better I DO have a fluffy Christmas fic in the works... AND another Warriors angst fic but shhhh we don't talk about that yet aha)
> 
> Thanks again! Comments always welcome!


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